After our movie screening on Saturday, as I tried vainly to clean my house for my big party the following evening, I was beset by my mother. She had, unbeknownst to me, decided to stay the rest of the day at my house with her various small children. Luckily her young minions know how to clean a bathroom. We managed to get through it all with some actual cleaning taking place, and they left at bedtime to drive back to Plattsburgh, across the lake by way of the ferry.
My wife was out with her sister, Sandy Cane. I obviously cannot reveal her true identity on my blog for fear of legal repercussions, but rest assured that no one would ever guess who she really is from this because, as anyone who knows her knows, she would violently murder anyone who tried to call her “Sandy Cane,” even as a joke anonymously online. So I’m covered. Anyway, I put the kids to bed by myself, sat back on the couch to try and watch every Oscar-nominated movie before the ceremony, now only 24 hours away, and relaxed. That was when my phone rang.
My mother, Toy Grammy, had hit black ice on the highway and had totaled her car. Well, not her car. My sister’s minivan that she had been borrowing. Not good. And now she needed someone to pick her up. Her and 6 other children, who were now all waiting at the Mobil station with the tow truck. This was a problem.
So here was my dilemma. My kids were sleeping. As any parent knows, if the children are sleeping, YOU DO NOT WAKE THEM UP! This is rule #1 of parenting. Even parents on day 1 of having children instinctively know this rule. So my kids were asleep, and I was home alone. Of course this was an emergency, so it could have been possible to break rule #1, except that if I tried to drive to get them all with two children taking up two of my seats, I would not be able to fit the rest of the mob into my vehicle. We would have had to tie my mother and at least one other child to the roof of my rented minivan, which had Florida summer tires on it. You may recall that my own car had recently been attacked and destroyed.
So I was not looking to take my car, horrible in the winter, over to a big patch of black ice and tie people to its roof. I decided to finish watching my movie. But no, I could not! I had to help somehow. Of course, as you may already be able to tell, I am not the real American hero mentioned in the title of this post. No, that honor goes to Sandy Cane, who showed up at this time in her minivan to drop my wife off from their evening out. As luck would have it, Sandy Cane lives only moments from the Vermont side of the ferry crossing, and she had enough seats for everyone. Now I just had to convince her to go pick up a bunch of people to whom she was technically not related and bring them to the ferry so that they could make it across to the ride that would hopefully be waiting for them on the other side. Sandybot – roll to the rescue!
She did this brave and selfless thing for me (because we are technically related), which meant that I finally got to see the final stages of Stephen Hawking’s deteriorating marriage, and my mother got to get home eventually. Sandy Cane even picked my mother up again the next day so that carless Toy Grammy would not miss the party. This is all just to say that family is, quite often, very annoying, but when it comes right down to it, there is nothing greater. Sandy Cane, your story and glory have been told, and we are truly grateful. Also, I’m very sorry for calling you that. Please don’t kill me. We’re family, right?!